Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Her hands clutched his shoulders; her whole body bending toward him. One of his hands twisted in her hair. He thrust the other beneath her skirt.
He smiled at her look of surprise, watched as her eyes changed, turning soft. He leaned forward and kissed her, sinking against Virginia’s lips with a feeling of coming home.
Somehow, he had to convince her to remain with him. Life at Drumvagen would not be the same without her. He could promise her the world. He didn’t remain in Scotland year-round. She could travel with him. He was due in Australia in a few months, and she would enjoy the voyage. She would be at his side, someone who could listen to his thoughts, who could reason with him, someone who would believe in him.
He had to convince her to stay.
He held his hand over hers, conscious of the delicacy of her fingers. She had nearly unmanned him last night with this delicate hand. She had clenched him to her, had held him between her palms, had expressed such genuine delight he’d wanted to take her again and again until the newness of his conquest had worn off. Except, after their loving at dawn, he realized it wasn’t the novelty of Virginia ensnaring him, but her smile, the sparkle in her eyes and the tenderness of her touch.
She was the woman he’d loved for more than a year and thought lost to him.
The day could not be more wonderful. But it wasn’t the sparkle in the air after the storm or the blue, cloudless skies. Even if snow had fallen, followed by a monsoon, he would never feel this day was anything but miraculous.
She had come to him. Not only yesterday, but last night. She had come to him. All those nights of sitting and staring at the fire, wondering if she had found bliss in her husband’s arms—all those questions had been answered. Another miracle—she was nearly a virgin. She’d moaned in wonder and disbelief, and he had been the one to bring her those sensations, to gift her with satisfaction.
He pressed his cheek against hers, synchronized his breathing to hers, pressed his hand against the small of her back, wanting to know her more intimately than any other person.
“You’ve been in my dreams for so long,” he said, giving her the truth. “I wanted to know what it was like to touch you. Now that I know, I’ll never forget.”
A moment later he pulled back. “Are you crying, Virginia?”
She buried her face against his chest.
“Is that a no?” he asked when she sighed. “Or a yes?”
“You mustn’t keep doing that,” she said. “You bring me to tears with your words, Macrath.”
He enfolded her in his arms again, pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling a burst of tenderness for her.
“What a terrible woman I am to be in another man’s arms.”
“Newly widowed.”
“Yes,” she said.
His conscience, restrained until now, shook free of its ropes. “And I should release you.”
Neither moved.
Long moments went by before he reached up and pulled free the tantalizing braid she wore, starting to unplait it.
“Another dream of mine,” he said as she rested acquiescent in his arms. “To see your hair around your shoulders.”
She remained still, encapsulated by sunlight, a radiant woman with flushed cheeks and full lips.
Gulls serenaded them, the tide adding a layer of soft sound.
The desire coursing through him was a languid thing. He didn’t need instant completion as much as simply to touch her, breathe in her air.
“Are you seducing me?” she asked, reaching up to press her lips against his throat.
“Is it working?”
He felt her lips curve against his skin.
“Have you had a great many lovers?” she asked, sounding more British than American at the moment.
“Not all that many,” he said.
She stiffened and he called himself ten times a fool.
“But there were some?”
What kind of idiot discusses his past while holding the woman he loves in his arms?
Pulling back, she peered into his face. “Did they all seduce you? All those women? Or did you seduce them?”
He didn’t get the chance to answer. Her hands came up and pressed against the back of his neck, forcing his head down. She kissed him, not the soft and gentle kisses she’d given him before.
Her mouth opened, her tongue explored his, measuring the contours of his lips.
This moment, this time, with the sound of the sea and the tide and the bright glare of the sunlight warming his back, was unique. A memory he would recall forever.
To his surprise and delight, she unfastened the buttons of his shirt, spread her hands wide over his chest, her fingernails raking his skin.
She made a sound, a soft moan giving voice to desire.
He wanted to make her scream.
When her fingers trailed lower to fumble at his buttons, he bit back a strangled oath and placed his hand on hers.
“I call quarter,” he said. “Would you unman me?”
“I would mount you,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
He moved his hands away, holding them up in a gesture of surrender.
“Then do your worst, I’m your slave.”
Her lips were full and slightly swollen. He wanted to kiss her again, but when he leaned forward, she gently pushed him back, grabbing the silk of her skirts and moving them to the side so she could see. One by one she unfastened the buttons of his trousers, and when he was free, grabbed him with both hands.
He wanted to sing hosannas when her heated palms and fingers explored the length of him.
“You are so beautiful,” she said, her head bowed to study him.
She was the beautiful one, her cheeks flushed pink, her hair flowing around her shoulders.
“Stay with me,” he said, softly against her temple. He kissed her there, noting her shiver. Was she as attuned to him as he was to her?
He knew when she trembled, when her excitement was at its peak. He knew what pleased her, from soft kisses on the inside of her wrist to long strokes of his fingertips from her ankle to her hip.
He wanted her beneath him, wanted to press his forehead between her breasts, inhale her scent and feel himself home at last.
She was his harbor, and the thought warmed him. He knew he could tell her his secrets, his fears, and she’d keep them safe.
“Stay with me,” he said again. “Stay at Drumvagen.” He hadn’t expected to be this direct. But once he said the words, he smiled into her face. “Don’t be the Countess of Barrett,” he said. “Be the American Virginia Anderson.”
Instead of answering him, she raised up on her knees, holding onto his shoulders for balance. After some rearranging of her skirts, she slowly, so slowly he ached to pull her down, lowered herself on him. Her eyes were closed, an expression of such intensity on her face he couldn’t look away. Finally, she was seated, sitting astride him as easily as if he were a saddle.
Let her mount him, then. He would give her the ride of her life.
She opened her eyes, blinked at him, a smile curving her lips. Her face was flushed, and he knew he would never forget the sight of her at that moment.
She pressed her hands against his chest, her fingers splayed to tease his nipples. He surged upward. Her eyes fluttered shut, her smile fading.
“Not too fast,” she said. “Make it slow. Make it last.”
“I’m not sure I can,” he said. “You feel so damn good.”
Her smile was back. “So do you. But I like this,” she said. “So much.”
She was going to kill him. He was certain of it. But he didn’t move. Instead, he concentrated on the row of buttons down the front of her bodice.
He wanted her breasts. He wanted her nipples in his mouth. There, a task he could give himself to forget how hot and tight she felt around him.
The buttons done, he unfastened the busk at the front of her corset, pushed it away from her rib cage and stared at the black lace trimmed shift. With a murmured apology, he tore the edge of it until he could reach her breasts. His thumbs abraded her nipples while she was driving him mad by rocking on him.
He might not survive this.
He lowered his head until he could mouth one nipple, surging upward as he sucked on her. She gasped, gripping his chest with nails as sharp as talons.
She slowly rose up on her knees until he was nearly out of her, then lowered herself again.
Pleasure pierced him. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he said.
“I don’t want you to last,” she said. She smiled at him, a creature poised between innocence and knowledge. “I like seducing you.”
“You’re too expert at this.”
She shook her head slowly from side to side.
He pressed down on her hips, seating her on him. All he could think was: how much longer did she want this to last?
She slowed her movements, up and down, a little to the side, then raising up on her knees to tease him once more.
He bent his attention to her other breast, praying his stamina would last. If he could withstand the next few moments, perhaps he’d be the one to drive her mad and not vice versa. Either way, they’d both be delighted.
His hands clenched on her waist. He wished she was naked so he could feel every inch of her. Kissing her neck, he tasted the dampness of her skin, the heat of it. Her heart beat in a fierce rhythm and her breath came in gasps to equal his.
Now, it must be now. He couldn’t last any longer.
“Come with me, Virginia,” he whispered against her ear. “Come with me.”
She moaned against his lips as she climaxed. A second later he was with her, the world graying as his body shuddered.
Hannah knocked softly on the door, waited a moment, then opened it slowly.
She tiptoed through the sitting room. No doubt the silence meant the countess was asleep. She hoped it was not a fever or anything contagious.
When she reached the bedroom, she peered inside only to find the bed empty.
Opening the doors of the armoire, she surveyed the dresses. One was missing.
The room smelled of the rose scent the countess favored. Turning, Hannah faced the bed again.
The dowager countess would be pleased about these developments.
Yet the situation was also worrisome. Macrath Sinclair was not the type of man one tricked. Nor was Virginia, the Countess of Barrett, the kind of woman who could take advantage of someone with impunity.
Still, it was none of her concern, was it? The countess and her mother-in-law wouldn’t be the first women to take matters into their own hands. That thought did not ease her fears about the future.
A feeling of foreboding swamped her as she closed the armoire doors slowly, then left the room.
Long minutes later Virginia pulled back, her expression a combination of embarrassment and incredulity.
He stroked his knuckles over her heated cheeks, feeling his heart expand. He was happy, and the feeling buoyed him, expanded through him like air into a balloon.
For years he’d been willing to do almost anything to succeed, and he had. Until now he hadn’t realized he’d neglected a vital part of life. He hadn’t thought about his own happiness. Now it seemed of paramount importance.
In a day his life had changed course. One single day and suddenly his focus was different.
How did he retain this feeling of elation? He suspected the answer was absurdly simple—by keeping Virginia with him.
How did he coax her into loving him? Not with wealth, because she’d always been wealthy. He doubted he could pretty up his speech enough for it to be considered poetry. What could convince her to love him?
He’d always been able to find answers for his problems, either from correspondence with men more learned than he or by seeking out answers through trial and error. Who, though, did he go to for advice about love?
Brianag? Perhaps she could furnish him a potion to use, if she didn’t strike him for hinting she had powers of witchcraft. He would have paid the devil a ransom if Virginia remained with him.
She got to her knees and moved to his side. She rearranged her skirts and buttoned her bodice while he made himself presentable.
“Stay here. Don’t return to London,” he said.
She didn’t answer, only stared down at her clasped hands. A moment later she shook her head.
“I cannot,” she said. “How could you ask that of me?”
Had he been wrong? Did she value her title that much?
“I’m expected back in London,” she said faintly.
“You’re expected back in London,” he repeated.
She wouldn’t look at him, slipped from the ledge and turned her back. Her hair was floating about her shoulders in a cloud, enticing him. He wanted to thrust his hands into it, tilt her head back and watch her try to avoid him then.
“We’re not in London, Virginia,” he said. “We’re far enough away the gossips wouldn’t know you’re here. Or care. Stay with me. If you insist on mourning your earl, we’ll marry after enough time has passed.”
She turned toward him, her eyes widening, her face so pale she looked like she might faint.
“Oh, Macrath.” She walked closer and stretched out her hand, cupping his jaw in her palm. “Dearest Macrath.” Her voice sounded teary, but her eyes were dry.
“You won’t stay?”
“I can’t.” She dropped her head, staring at the stone floor.
Silence stretched between them. Not the expectant kind that allows for anticipation, but something darker and more troubling. This silence was one of unvoiced truths, hidden meanings, and lies.
The ocean-born breeze sighed through the opening to the beach. The gulls cried aloud in joyous triumph over a school of fish. The tide rolled onto the sand as the sun poured in through the hole at the top of the grotto. Life went on, even though he was as cold as ice.
He buttoned his shirt, each movement of his fingers allowing his frozen thoughts to thaw.
She started to braid her hair, her fingers flying expertly over the tresses.
“Didn’t your husband’s family think it an odd journey for you to take so soon? What did you tell them?”
“I needed to get away,” she said. “To escape London. And maybe myself,” she added.
“Or for a bit of entertainment? You had an itch and decided to scratch it?”
She glanced at him. He had never seen her complexion as pale as it was now. She bit at her bottom lip.
“No, Macrath,” she said, stretching out her hand to him. “I can’t stay with you, however much I may want to. To do so would be to thrust Lawrence’s family into the center of controversy and scandal.”
“Then why come to Scotland days after you became a widow?”
“Because I needed to see you,” she said, her voice sounding like she pushed back tears. “Because I wanted to see you.”
“I feel the same. Stay with me.”
But, damn her, she didn’t speak. She only inspected her clothing, fluffed up her skirts and strolled toward the passage. He followed her, grabbed her arm, and turned her before she could escape.
“Like it or not,” she said softly before he could speak, “I am the Countess of Barrett. I have people depending on me, just like your sisters are dependent on you.”
A few minutes ago they’d been as close as any two people could be. Now a continent separated them.
“I think, perhaps,” he said, speaking the words with remarkably little emotion, “it would be best if you left Drumvagen as quickly as possible.”
He should’ve guarded his heart with greater care. He should have remembered she’d wounded him before, but that injury had not been at her hands.
This one was.